I’ll Take My Media Rare(ly)

It is probably a given that almost everybody, certainly almost all California, has heard about El Nino. For residents of California, north and south, El Nino is that climatological condition that has often performed as savagely as forecast and occasionally not up to its hyped potential, and for the media, often as dreadfully as expected and occasionally not as destructively as wished for.

It was during a lull in El Nino-enhanced storms No. 3 and 4 or possibly No. 5 and 6 that the media came scratching at our doorstep. For days, our street in Malibu had been a parking lot for camera trucks and assorted vehicles from every TV operation within a radius of 100 miles. But at this particular moment, a respite in the storm’s fury had sent them scurrying after serial killers and freeway car chases and other events that will illuminate the direction in which our nation is heading.

But this gentleman--I say gentleman because he was dressed in the height of media acceptability: blazer and gray trousers, white shirt and solid colored tie and, to complete the outfit, a Sam Donaldson sincere hair piece. He identified himself as being from CNN and then came the question that all America was breathlessly awaiting: “Are we,” he posed, “taking these storms (El Nino) seriously?”

Talk about your poor timing. Much as the waitperson at the newest pricey feeding trough here in glamorous Malibu doesn’t appear until your mouth is jammed full of priceless porcinis and impossible-to-get-at-any-price truffles and then he or she asks, “How is everything?” the gentleman from CNN had caught us in the midst of cracking yet another bottle of Laurent Perrier to commemorate the merging of the Wilson house and the Pacific Ocean. This small ceremony was to be followed by a celebratory dance to mark the mudslide finally breaching the wall in the Lloyds’ bedroom and rendering it uninhabitable.

We quickly calculated that we could postpone the festivities for a few hours and probably then the upper floor of the Schiller structure would have succumbed to tidal erosion and joined the lower floor. Thus we could combine the two gala events into one and make it an occasion for a dance cum dinner.

In truth, we would have liked to respond to the probing inquiry but there was much to do yet, such as finding matching his and hers slickers and hip boots, contacting Hammacher Schlemmer to determine if the titanium-tipped mud shovels had arrived and of course plan the next round of “the road is closed and your kids can’t get to school” parties and “here comes the mudslide” progressive dinners.

We stunned the gentleman from CNN by opting not to be interviewed. Shaken and unbelieving, he went on his way. And now we are aware what we should have told him. “Us take it seriously? Don’t be such a party pooper.”